


Of Revelation

by Polly_Lynn



Series: Threads [1]
Category: Castle
Genre: F/M, Family, Female Friendship, Female-Centric, Friendship, Gen, Romance, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polly_Lynn/pseuds/Polly_Lynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lanie means well. Kate knows that. And, really, it's generous of her. Blowing a day off—and they're not exactly thick on the ground at the OCME—and using it to pull this together. It's nice of all of them. Very. They're all busy. Everyone but her is busy, and it's nice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A three-shot set just after "Need to Know" (6 x 03).

 

"The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time,

but in their significance to ourselves

they find their own order:

the continuous thread of revelation."

— Eudora Welty

* * *

 

 

Lanie means well. Kate knows that. And, really, it's generous of her. Blowing a day off—and they're not exactly thick on the ground at the OCME—and using it to pull this together. It's nice of all of them. Very. They're all busy. Everyone but her is busy, and it's _nice._

It's just also very pink and . . . frothy. One boutique after the other, each one pinker and frothier than the last.

"Oh, I've _heard_ of this one." Martha draws close to Lanie as the four of them turn the corner into a different world entirely. "But darling, isn't it next to impossible to get an appointment less than six weeks out?"

Kate's long since lost track of where they are or what number stop this is. She squints up into the sun to get her bearings. When she finally finds the name on the elegant shingle that juts out above the entrance, swinging in the light breeze, her heart sinks.

She's heard of the place, too. From Madison, maybe, or— _God_ —it might have been Gina the day Castle couldn't find whatever the hell she'd showed up unannounced to wrest from him, and he'd left the two of them to make small talk while he rummaged.

"Just _next to_ impossible." Lanie laughs off the feat like it's nothing, but Kate catches the anxious glance she takes at her watch as they step from the din of the Manhattan street into another world entirely.

Low, tasteful music rolls over them. The air is sweet, and the color scheme understated. Everything about the place radiates well-bred charm. If they're late, it's clear that each and every person associated with the place would die on the rack before they'd do something as gauche as mention it. A gorgeously put together woman with a decade and a half on Kate glides toward them before the door has even slipped shut.

"Dr. Parish." She clasps Lanie's hand in both of hers and manages to do a kind of air kiss that's neither phony nor overdone. "Wonderful to see you again." She turns. "And you _must_ be Detective Beckett."

The title catches her off guard. "Ms.," she blurts, blushing hard. "At the moment. Kate. Kate is fine."

"Kate." The woman extends a manicured hand that makes Kate wish a surreptitious swipe on her jeans were possible. "Congratulations on your engagement. We're delighted at the opportunity to help you find something perfect."

"Perfect." Her own smile feels forced. Everything about this feels forced. She finds herself missing the umpteenth canned variation on Vivaldi and the overwhelming scent of rose petals. She finds herself longing for something pink and frothy.

"Martha, Alexis." Lanie leaps into a silence that grows awkward before Kate even has a chance to register it. "This is Georgia. Georgia, the mother and daughter of the groom."

"Martha Rodgers, my!" Georgia murmurs something charming about a show she'd seen Martha in a few years ago. She follows up with a more up-to-date compliment for one of her students. It has Martha beaming, and even Alexis looks brighter than she has in the last few stops.

"You hate it." Lanie's voice is low in her ear. It's an excess of caution. Georgia has already discreetly moved her conversation with the others to a conversation area a few steps away. "Kate, I'm sorry, it's too much. This isn't you. I was just so _pumped_ when I slipped into that cancelation. But I should've . . ."

"It's great." Kate grabs her friend's hands. "Lanie, this whole day . . . and this place it's gorgeous and elegant and . . ."

"And over the top, and I have _already_ dragged you all up and down Manhattan." Lanie gives her a hard stare. "We don't have to stay."

"I think we do." Kate lowers her voice to a stage whisper and inclines her head. Lane follows her gaze to where Martha is now holding court. She and Alexis bend their heads over huge portfolios and Georgia's team of slim, efficient assistants come and go, leaving fabric swatches and jewel cases like offerings. "Martha would never forgive me."

* * *

 

It's nice. Actually, genuinely nice for a while. They have a generously sized room to themselves. There's champagne and things to nibble on. There's sinfully comfortable furniture and an army of low-voiced staff that comes and goes almost invisibly. It's posh and decadent and _nice._

Martha regales them with tales of her own weddings while she and Lanie draw their fingers down glossy pages. Kate poses obediently, turning her face to the light, as they hold fabric and lace and beads up to her skin, then laughs and swats them away when she's had enough. They're all in stitches, though Alexis pretends to be scandalized.

Kate forgets herself. She forgets that she's got nothing but time for vendors and venues. She forgets to be anxious about the price tag on every last thing when she's unemployed and has no prospects at all. She forgets to worry that this place is expensive enough not to _have_ price tags.

It's nice right up to the point that some new member of Georgia's brigade whisks open the curtains.

"Right, ladies!" The woman claps delicate hands once and strides to the center of the room. She turns in a slow circle to survey the group. "I'm Lynette, and Georgia has charged me with getting down to business here."

Alexis clears her throat and tries to edge her mostly full champagne flute behind a stack of jewelry cases and flat boxes with complicated-looking lingerie. Kate sits up straighter, even though she's inclined to smile at the contrast between the woman's diminutive size and her military bearing. She wonders fleetingly if she actually _is_ ex-military and stifles something with too much potential to be a giggle by popping a grape in her mouth.

"Are we outfitting the whole party today, then?" She turns eyes on Kate, apparently under the mistaken impression that she's in charge here. "Mother of the Groom?" Lynette gives Martha a little bow, then turns an appraising eye on the other two. The grape suddenly sticks in Kate's throat. Panic before she even knows why.

"And our bridesmaids." She reaches for Lanie's hand, then Alexis's holding them side by side. She lifts them to the light to enjoy the contrast between the rich gold and pale pink undertones. " _So_ many possibilities for color, have you given any thought . . ."

_"_ Not today," Lanie cuts in smoothly, drawing her hand back.

"None at _all."_ Martha speaks almost at the same time. She rises from the depths of her velvet pouf to lay a palm on Kate's shoulder. "Today is all about our bride."

"Of course," Lynette picks up on her gaffe and moves the conversation deftly on to necklines and trains.

The damage is done, though. Kate spies just a glimpse of flaming cheek and tight smile through the sweep of Alexis's hair as the girl excuses herself and pushes her way through the curtains.

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kate turns with an apology on her lips. She wonders what she can possibly say to Lanie when she gets back. To all of them. She wonders how she can explain that they're all wrong and she's tired and not ready for this part. She's wondering, but Martha smiles. She beams like she's proud."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of a three-shot set just after "Need to Know" (6 x 03).

 

"The events in our lives happen

in a sequence in time,

but in their significance to ourselves

they find their own order:

the continuous thread of revelation."

— Eudora Welty

* * *

 

"It's not about you, darling." Martha smiles at Kate in the mirror as she fusses with the clasp of yet another necklace. "You know that, don't you?"

"I . . ." Kate puffs out a breath hard enough to stir the wisps of hair framing her face. Lynette's managed a more than passable up-do with a handful of pins and sheer force of will. "I mostly know that. I just . . . Lanie swooped in this morning, and all of this was . . ."

"Impromptu," Martha supplies. She turns Kate by the shoulders and steps back to take in the whole picture. "No." She reaches up and whisks the necklace off, tossing it carelessly on to a side table.

"No?" Kate twists to look in the trifold mirror over her own shoulder. The dress is huge. The bodice has a simple, high sweetheart neckline, and it's light on the beadwork. She likes that, at least, but the waist fits tight enough to make her ribs ache, and the skirt flares out for days. "It's . . ." She's at a loss.

"It's lovely." Martha frowns as she says it. "That's the problem exactly. You make _everything_ lovely. Even things that are terrible and obviously wrong."

"Wrong," Kate repeats dumbly. She turns from side to side, but her mind's not really on the dress.

"Definitely wrong." Lanie pushes through the curtains just then. "Gorgeous, because it's you, Kate. But definitely wrong."

"It's a predicament." Martha steps up beside her. The two of them fold their arms and nod seriously at Kate as if she's a painting that won't hang straight. "An absolute predicament."

A cadre of Lynette's team streams in. Half are laden down, the other half empty armed. They weave efficiently around each other, hanging out the new candidates and removing the old. A pair appears on either side of Kate to slip her out of the "definitely wrong" dress and into another.

They stream back out, Lanie bringing up the rear, before Kate's really had time to think about it. Before she's had time to think about much of anything beyond Alexis's still-empty chair and the fact that she _mostly_ knows it's not about her.

"I should have talked to her." Kate sweeps a palm over her hip to smooth the fabric as Martha makes her way around the pedestal. "Before now, I should have . . ."

"When, exactly, dear?" Martha cocks her head to the side, then motions for Kate to turn. "In the ten minutes you and Richard have had to yourselves since you got engaged? Before or after Pi climbed in to ask for a bedtime story?"

Kate stares at her in the mirror, appalled. "Please don't give him any ideas."

"Not much danger of that." Martha gives her a wry smile as she bends gracefully to better arrange the train. "I dare say the boy's head is already more than full." She twitches the train smartly. The lustrous fabric fans out, catching the light.

_Pretty,_ Kate thinks. _Pretty._ She suddenly knows what Martha means. Not about her. Not really. It's this place. It's the room and the light and everything that goes into this business. It's all pretty. It's all wrong.

"No," she says. Soft at first, then more certain. "No." She looks from her own body to the line of artfully draped dresses waiting to the left and right of her. She sighs. "All of them . . . no."

Kate turns with an apology on her lips. She wonders what she can possibly say to Lanie when she gets back. To all of them. She wonders how she can explain that they're all wrong and she's tired and not ready for this part. She's wondering, but Martha smiles. She beams like she's proud.

" _That's_ my girl." She throws her hands wide. "All of them. No, _indeed_." She holds up a single finger. "Now you get yourself out of that . . . _thing._ I am going to find some minions to take all of these away, and then Dr. Parish and I will seize control from that Lynette until we find something devastating and one-hundred percent _you."_

Kate laughs. She tugs at the laces knotted at the small of her back and rolls her shoulders. She breathes deep for the first time in a while.

"Thank you." Kate's stuck halfway in and halfway out of the dress when she remembers to call after her. She hears the rise of murmured conversation as the heavy curtains part and comes out of the profusion of satin and lace, smiling. "Martha, really . . . thanks . . . ."

The last word trickles out, even though it's not Martha she finds herself whirling to face. It's Alexis. They stare at each other for a long, drawn-out moment.

"Alexis, I'm glad you're . . . I should have . . . I've been meaning . . ."

". . . Gram is . . . Dr. Parish . . . they're . . . someone called someone a bully . . ."

Their stammered words collide. They pile up between them, and then there's silence. Alexis is the one to break it. She steps forward, her head bowed shyly and her cheeks pink.

"I found this." She holds out her arms. They're draped in something not quite ivory. Even with the the hanger drooping from one end and the skirt doubled over on itself to keep it from dragging, Kate can tell it's unlike anything she's seen yet. "I don't know . . . the others . . . I saw them bringing in all these pretty things and . . . They're right. Gram and Dr. Parish. Today is supposed to be all about you, and . . . " She trails off. "I thought you might like this one."

"Thank you." Kate's voice is rough, her throat unexpectedly thick. She's glad for the busy work of reaching for the dress and holding it high. It more than delivers on the promise she saw as it lay nestled in the girl's arms. The silhouette is slim and elegant. The drape of the fabric lends itself to liquid movement. "Alexis. It's beautiful."

She's breathless as she turns to the mirror, holding it up to her body. She smiles wide at more than just the dress. At the pretty, serious face studying her. Studying the two of them, one behind the other. She turns swiftly, feeling easy in her own skin for the first time all day. She holds the dress out like an offering.

"Help me?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, thanks for reading. One more chapter to go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting her into the dress is easy enough. It's just fabric and lining, with none of the panels and layered fasteners that have left Kate stiff backed and just trying to stay out of the way up to this point. It's getting her out of everything else that gives them trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third and final chapter. Set just after "Need to Know" (6 x 03).

 

 

"The events in our lives happen

in a sequence in time,

but in their significance to ourselves

they find their own order:

the continuous thread of revelation."

— Eudora Welty

* * *

 

Getting her into the dress is easy enough. It's just fabric and lining, with none of the panels and layered fasteners that have left Kate stiff backed and just trying to stay out of the way up to this point. It's getting her _out_ of everything else that gives them trouble.

"I think if you . . ." Alexis steps back. "Can you pull the whole thing straight up?" She stretches her arms high in demonstration. "That way I can get rid of the crinoline."

"Yes!" Kate gathers the skirt swiftly in her hands. "Please— _please—_ get rid of the crinoline!"

Alexis laughs and drops to her knees, going to work on the ties at Kate's waist. "Ok, now. One big step toward the mirror. Right foot first."

Kate shifts carefully on to her left foot, grateful for the steady hand that guides her ankle clear of the sea of stiff fabric.

"Good." Alexis's voice is muffled as she shifts around underfoot. "Now lift this one and I'll pull the whole mess back this way."

Kate leans forward, coming into the world's most awkward arabesque. She's still holding the skirt high enough she can only just see over the top. Just enough that it hits her she's lurching around in stockings and a garter belt that her soon-to-be stepdaughter probably didn't need to see. She drops the handfuls of silk abruptly, almost before Alexis is even clear of the pedestal. She watches in the mirror as her cheeks turn seven shades of red, but Alexis comes up laughing.

"Um . . . " She manages the short row of pearl buttons that end at the dip of Kate's spine, leaving her back bare. She tugs the skirt in three or four places to make it fall better. "No garter belt with this." She indicates the barely-there lines where the dress clings to the curve of Kate's hips and thighs.

"No garter belt," Kate echoes. She's still pink around the collar bones, but she can't take her eyes off the dress. She twists from side to side, relishing the clean, Roaring Twenties lines and the feel of the fabric as ripples and swirls around her legs. It's lovely.

"No bra, either," Alexis says thoughtfully as she looks Kate up and down. Her eyes go wide a second too late. A blush that far outdoes Kate's crawls down her neck and spreads out.

"Not this one, anyway, thank God!" Kate laughs. She reaches back, but it's complicated, long-line thing she can't quite navigate, particularly given that she's holding up the two tails of the dress's halter neck that still need tying behind her neck. "I'll owe you big if you can get me out of this, too."

"I'll try." She steps up close and sets to work. "This might need a college degree, though."

Kate twists to look over her shoulder. She's trying to help, but it's hopeless. She can't see a thing, so she stays still and obediently turns this way and that, sucking in and breathing out as ordered.

"There," Alexis says as she reaches a hand out for the ties. "Freedom. I think."

Kate lays the trailing silk across Alexis's palm and hunches forward to pull the stiff, boned panels of the bra free of her rib cage. She finally manages to tug the whole thing out one side just as Alexis is satisfied with the length and evenness of the knot she's securing. Kate stands up straight, dropping the bra off to the side. She loves the feel of the dress against her skin. She's eager for the whole picture.

She sees Alexis's face first. Her lips are a silent _O_ and her eyes are strange and bright. Kate's taken aback. She can't think what—good or bad—could possibly draw such a strong, immediate reaction.

Her eyes travel the length of her own body, from the toes just peeping out beneath the skirt to the perfect fit at the waist. From the elegant, plunging _vee_ of the bodice to the puckered scar between her breasts.

* * *

 

"Doesn't work, huh?" She raises an eyebrow at Alexis in the mirror. Her voice cracks a little, and somehow it's just right.

"It's gorgeous," the girl says forcefully. "You look _amazing_ , but Kate, you . . ."

She turns. She gathers the skirt in one hand like she's worn the dress every day of her life. It feels that way. She steps down from the pedestal and reaches out with her free hand. Alexis takes immediately. Thank God, she takes it, and the two of them sink side by side on to a love seat.

"I got shot," she says quietly.

"I know. I was there."

Alexis grimaces, hearing how it sounds. Not meaning it that way if the helpless gesture she makes is any indication. It's true, though. Kate knows it's true, whether she means it that way or not.

"You were there. And your dad was there and Martha . . ." Kate waits a beat until familiar blue eyes meet her own. " . . . and we've never talked about it. And I'm sorry about that."

"I haven't been . . . the easiest to talk to lately." Her eyes drop to where Kate's hand rests over hers on the plush velvet. "For a while."

"Yeah. Well, me . . ." Kate rolls her eyes. "You know. Can't shut me up." Alexis laughs quietly, and Kate feels like her chest works a little better with each passing moment. With each small step, it's all just a little less painful, but there's more. This is just a beginning. "We haven't talked about a lot of things. I know that."

Alexis nods. A little stiff, but her shoulders soften. "I've missed . . ." She breaks off. Her eyes narrow like she's turning things over in her mind. Careful as Kate remembers her being from the very start.

"I'm glad." She nods, like she's satisfied with her choice of words and raises her eyes to Kate's. "I'm glad you and my dad are together. _Finally_." She lays enough emphasis on the word that Kate feels her cheeks grow hot. "But there's been . . . A _lot_ has happened. And even with every big . . . I miss having . . . it's like he stole my friend." Her head droops, and her hair falls forward, hiding her face. " _God_ , that sounds stupid."

"It doesn't." Kate ducks into her line of sight. "I . . . sometimes I think that's part of it. Why it took us — your dad and I . . ." She bites her lip. Her gaze falls to her engagement ring. The dressing room light catches it, throwing rainbows on the walls. It's huge and beautiful and overwhelming in its own way. "I was afraid for a long time that if we were together, I'd be losing my best friend and everything would change. And it turns out _that's_ what's really stupid. Fear." She shakes her head. She's saying a lot of this for the first time. _Hearing_ it for the first time. "He's my friend and my family. And you and Martha . . . marrying your dad . . . it just means you're all more to me."

"More." Alexis repeats the word, thoughtfully. Kate wonders what it means to her. What it can mean and what each of them might like it to mean.

"I've missed being friends, too," she says, because it's true enough. She _likes_ this girl, though it hasn't always been easy on either side. She thinks she'll like the woman she's becoming even more. "I've missed talking." She cracks a smile. "And feeling like anyone listens to my advice . . ."

"You give good advice." Alexis gives her a sly look. "Even if only one Castle ever listens."

"Hey, I'm batting .500. I'll take it."

Kate smiles back and wonders if this is enough. If it's a good day's work, given how far they've come and how far yet they have to go. _Work_. The word sounds a melancholy note in her. Just for moment, though, and then she's stubborn. Then she wants more. The offering of it, at least.

"You don't . . . I hope you know that it doesn't have to be just that." Kate looks at her sidelong, trying to gauge how far to go. Trying to figure out if she's pushing things already. "You're not fifteen any more. And if you ever just . . ." She thinks about Meredith. About her own mother and everything that suddenly went missing from her life when she was hardly older.

"I can listen, too." It's hard to say. It makes her skin burn, putting herself out there like this when she feels bad at everything. When half the time she feels like an intruder in their home. "I've obviously got the time." She hates it the minute she says it. The clunky veneer of a joke, when she means it. She wants to take it back, but Alexis lifts her head. She makes eye contact. Steady for the first time in a while.

"I'm sorry about your job, Kate." Her mouth twists a little. A struggle she's not quite over, though the words are sincere enough. "I know . . . " She turns her palm up, slipping her fingers between Kate's and squeezing tight. "I know you love my dad. And you must have wanted it a lot to go to DC and be away from him . . . And even if I don't understand, I'm sorry."

"Thank you." She's surprised. She sounds it. Not because the sympathy is unexpected exactly. That's part of it, but more because no one—not even she—has thought about it in quite that way. What it meant to leave. What it means to be back like this. Why it's terrible and wonderful at once, whatever comes next. "Alexis, thank you."

Something about it pushes her to her feet. Surprise and gratitude, both. Relief as Alexis rises with her and hugs her tight for a long moment. They break apart in the same moment. A little teary, a little embarrassed.

"Let's look at you, Kate."

Alexis skips forward, tugging Kate by the hand until she's back on the pedestal, the flattering lights shining on her, just so. Kate lifts her arms to the side and twitches her hips. The dress follows her movements, liquid and beautiful.

The curtains part behind them. Lanie and Martha lead the way with Lynette close behind. They're empty handed, though they're chatting amicably enough. It's a strategy session, clearly, but it stops all at once.

"Kate," Lanie breathes.

Martha, for once, is silent for a long moment. She's still. Quiet when she speaks at last "Oh, my. _Katherine."_

"Well." Lynette eases into the room. She skirts the edge, giving the four of them their moment. "I see we have a _candidate._ "

"Maybe." Kate tilts her head, considering. Her hand rises to the scar and falls. She smiles at Alexis over her shoulder. "Progress at least. A candidate? Maybe."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading. Not sure what possessed my brain with this. There might be a short follow-up story—just a one shot—that covers the territory I thought I was writing in when I started this.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading something that's a departure I feel wholly unqualified to write. Special thanks to CC for hand holding and encouragement. Next two chapters will be up in fairly short order. It all just needs editing.


End file.
